


He's Got a New Microphone (and Doesn't Need You Anymore)

by ConsultingWriter



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Band Fic, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik is an idiot, Families of Choice, Getting Back Together, M/M, breaking up, charles is not a happy bunny, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:25:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1229791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingWriter/pseuds/ConsultingWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his boyfriend and sister run off together, Charles does what any teen with a band does: writes songs about it.<br/>A story about jerk boyfriends, bad sisters, and a groovy family of choice. </p><p><b>UPDATE: AS of 3/25 I've updated the ending of the 4 chapter from its original.</b>  </p><p>  <i>This entire situation sucked. He thought he’d been pretty reasonable about the whole thing. The whole ‘I think we should take a break, I need time to think about us’ thing. Apparently, ‘take a break’ was code for ‘I’m going to run off with your sister’ in Erik-speak.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>Before he could sigh for the third time, a hand slapped down on his back.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>“This,” his friend Moira announced “is ridiculous, if I hear you sigh one more time I’m going to snap and commit homicide.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He's Got a New Microphone

**Author's Note:**

> Second attempt at an X-Men fic, first Cherik. 
> 
> This was inspired by the end of the Utada Hikaru song Easy Breezy (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RpqTJySA5Sc)

Charles stared at his phone’s background unhappily. It needed to be changed, he should change it.

His fingers stayed unmoving.

He sighed and clicked the button on the top, causing the screen—and Erik’s smiling face—to go black with a faint _schnick_ sound.

He sighed again and rested his head against the table with a light _thunking_ sound.

This entire situation sucked. He thought he’d been pretty reasonable about the whole thing. The whole ‘I think we should take a break, I need time to think about us’ thing. Apparently, ‘take a break’ was code for ‘I’m going to run off with your sister’ in Erik-speak.

Before he could sigh for the third time, a hand slapped down on his back.

“This,” his friend Moira announced “is ridiculous, if I hear you sigh one more time I’m going to snap and commit homicide.”

Charles rolled his eyes his head sideways to look at her, temple resting against the table’s cool plastic.

“Seriously, Charles, screw him,” Moira continued once she knew she had his full attention “you know what would help?”

He hummed, only partially interested in the answer. He knew what he needed. He needed a better taste in men and a sister who wouldn’t betray him by running away with the love of his life.

“You need a new microphone,” she said dramatically, as if she’d just given him the key to happiness.

Charles raised his eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“Okay, look,” Moira tried, seeing his unimpressed look “Erik bought you your first mic, and it’s the only one you use. It’s time to pack it up, get away from the reminder of him, and get you one for yourself. Think of buying one as putting the pen to the page to write the new chapter of your life. I even saw this _groovy,_ ” she said groovy in a teasing manner that made him smile, ‘groovy’ was one of his favorite words (only second to ‘Erik’ and ‘genetics’), “60s styled microphone and stand at the music store the other day, come on,” she wheedled, bumping him with her shoulder “you could at least check it out, give it some thought; we could stop by after class.”

She was right. He needed a fresh perspective, and a new microphone might be a good place to start.

“Okay,” he agreed after a moment “but we can’t spend all day in there, Hank recently found a new book about genetic mutations and the possibility of superhuman with odd powers one day coming from the accelerated mutations of several genes, it’s quite fascinating.”

“Yeah,” Moira deadpanned “sounds awesome.”

In a moment of maturity, Charles stuck his tongue out at her in return, causing Moira to roll her eyes.

“So,” Moira said after a few minutes of silence, clearly bored with Charles’s self-indulgent pity party “how’s the new set of songs coming?”

Charles groaned but dug his notebook out of his bag and pushed it towards his friend.

“Wow,” she breathed out as she flipped through the messily scrawled lyrics “I don’t think you’ve used the word ‘fuck’ that many times since I’ve known you—in fact, I can count on one hand how many times I’ve heard you curse all together before now—and I didn’t even know you knew the word ‘douchenozzle,’ but congrats on the creativity, rhyming something with that is pretty impressive.”

Charles turned his head away, blush high and hot on his cheeks; he’d been in a dark and angry place when he’d written those songs and he liked to think he’d moved on from that stage after his and Erik’s break-up quite well.

Moira patted him lightly on the back in a ‘there-there’ gesture “Hey, that’s perfectly fine, at least you haven’t gone on some psycho rampage where you tore up all the pictures of the two of you together and torched all his stuff in a bonfire, right?”

Charles stayed silent, blush darkening, unwilling to admit that he’d entertained the idea during the first few days after Erik’s hit-and-run break-up surprise.

“Oh my gosh,” Moira gasped, shocked, “You didn’t?!?”

“No!” He groaned “but I might have thought about it, maybe.”

“Good,” Moira replied “because if you’re going to do something like that you need to call me, I’ll bring the booze and Alex, Sean, and Hank for comfort and cheerleading, respectively.”

Charles chuckled weakly at that Hank, Alex, and Sean had never liked the high and mighty punk-rock-purist attitude Erik sometimes got.

Moira looked over at him and sobered up “Seriously though Charles, don’t destroy his stuff or the pics or anything, you love Erik and you loved your relationship with him and you were best friends before the two of you started dating, don’t throw away the reminders of the good times because you’re hurting right now, okay?”

Charles swallowed around the lump in his throat and nodded, face rubbing against the surface of the table.

“Come on,” he said finally, picking his head up off the table “lunch is almost over and we’ve got math next.”

The dark haired girl snorted “For someone who plays an instrument and loves science, your hatred of math is a bit ridiculous.

He shrugged in response and tucked his notebook back into his backpack. There wasn’t much he could say to that.

 

* * *

 

Leaning back in his rolling desk chair, Charles looked over the lyrics to his newest song carefully, fingers tapping out the beat on the desk’s thick varnished oak top.

It was a marked improvement over the last, admittedly terrible, songs he’d written. It was still a little angry, yes, but he didn’t think he was going to be able to write anything that wasn’t at least a bit angry for at least a few more weeks. He was hoping to be able to write more upbeat and joking songs about his heartbreak by then, but he wasn’t going to make himself or his pride any promises.

“And I never said I was right, well I’m probably the one in the wrong; the voices are telling me I can’t always be this strong,” he sang aloud to himself “and nothing feels right right now, like I’ve lost my mind somehow. I’m scaring myself.”

“Ooh,” it came from behind him, startling Charles into almost falling over the arm of his chair, “how dramatic.”

It was Alex. Charles resituated himself in his chair with a huff but didn’t dignify his younger friend with a response.

“’least it’s better than your last set, eh Professor?”

The younger boy came to stand beside him, eyes scanning down the page even as he gave Charles a gentle nudge.

The friendly touch made him smile warmly even as the title caused him to roll his eyes. Professor X had been his nickname ever since he’d tutored Alex and Sean during their freshmen year, and Hank had picked it up fairly quickly after his introduction to Charles.

“Genius can’t be achieved all the time, Alex,” Charles said primly, a haughty note highlighting his tone.

Alex snorted ungracefully “You’re so modest Professor,” it was fond and Charles’s smile widened. It was nice to know that even though he, evidently, had a bad taste in men and a fickle family he still had great friends.

The younger boy hummed in thought, pulling Charles from his musing and tapped a section on the page.

“This doesn’t sound right, maybe try…”he trailed off and picked up Charles’s pen, looking to him for permission.

Charles nodded his head once and the blonde immediately set to work, scratching out the stanza and rewriting it.

The chestnut haired teen read over the new stanza carefully and then read the entire song over. He smiled; Alex’s changes definitely improved the song’s flow.

Suddenly Alex leaned against Charles’s desk, but was looking away, towards the wall behind Charles.

“Christmas break is coming up,” the blonde remarked casually and Charles looked up at him in bemusement.

The other boy stayed silent for a moment, shifting almost nervously, “Nick and Anna are going to see Nick’s hag of a mother for the month and me and Scott are staying at the house alone; we were wondering if you wanted to come stay with us,” Charles wanted to frown at Alex’s use of the word ‘hag’ but he knew that the Summers’ foster father’s mother had tried to dissuade him and his wife from taking in Alex along with Scott because of the mark on his juvenile record from an incident of vandalism when he was thirteen.

There was a blush high on Alex’s cheeks it that softened Charles’s reprimand and it was just a bit harder to breathe, tears stinging his eyes. He’d thought he’d be spending Christmas alone. He just nodded unable to put his tremulous feelings into words.  

“Cool, that’s awesome,” Alex beamed.

“Now then,” he continued after a moment, pushing away from the desk “Moira’s called a meeting in the studio in twenty minutes, grab your notebook and let’s roll.”

It amused him, sometimes, how his friends thought they could order him around the way they did. He grabbed his notebook and shoved it, along with his pen, into his bag and followed after the blonde anyway, it never hurt to indulge their beliefs every once in a while.

The lights in the sound booth were off when they got there and Charles’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. Usually when Moira called ‘meetings’—which Charles had realized not long into their friendship was code for ‘band practice’—she had everything set up and ready to go.

With a click the lights flicked on and in the middle of the surprisingly empty room stood a new microphone. It was the same mic that Moira had showed him a handful of weeks ago and it gleamed beautifully under the light.

He’d loved it but hadn’t had the heart to buy it to replace the one Erik had given him.

“What…?” Charles asked in confusion.

“It’s an early Christmas gift,” it came from the open doorway. Hank stood there, shifting from one foot to the other, unsure of how Charles would react to the new microphone.

“Why….?” He felt a bit stupid with his unfinished questions, but he was somewhere between stunned and confused.

Sean answered him from his behind Hank “We wanted to help you move forward, you’re waiting for nothing Professor.”

There was a murmur of agreement and Charles almost snapped at them that it wasn’t any of their business but their sad eyes stopped him. He sighed instead; dropping his head forward, chin touching his chest. They were right, he’d moped over Erik for long enough. It was time to sop…waiting for nothing…as Sean had put it.

He blinked hard at the phrase, ‘waiting for nothing’ that had a nice ring to it. He slid his backpack off his shoulder and let if all into Hank’s studio chair, fishing his notebook and lucky pen out of it.

Charles settled himself on the floor, flipped the spiral notebook open, and wrote ‘waiting for nothing’ at the top. He simply stared at the line for a beat before pressing the pen back to the page to add ‘…and wasting away,’ to the end at the end of it.

He leaned back, resting against the soundboard’s cabinet and held the notebook up at eye level.

Slowly he heard his friends shuffling about the small room, coming one by one to sit next with him.

Moira broke the silence with the ‘pop’ of her gum bubble bursting “So,” she whispered obnoxiously loud after a moment “what are we doing?”

“ _We_ aren’t doing anything,” Charles scoffed “ _I_ am writing the last song for our EP, you’re sitting on your rear and distracting me.”

“Well then,” she said, and mimed zipping her lips shut.

They managed to stay silent until he put his pen down, tucking it into the notebook’s spirals.

“Alright!” Sean crowed “Let’s see them Professor!”

Charles blamed the brief moment of hesitation he felt on the fact that these songs were the most personal set he’d written yet. He pushed it aside and handed the notebook to Sean, who immediately flopped to the first song.

Hank and Alex both leaned over to join Sean in reading. Their heads were bent together, brushing hair and temples and foreheads anytime someone adjusted their positions. It made Charles smile and Moira coo quietly. Charles elbowed her subtly in the side, those three didn’t have a clue and he didn’t want Moira to freak them out by saying something before they were ready to hear it.

“Ugh,” she hissed “the three of them are so obnoxiously in love, it makes me sick.”

Maybe it was just his bitterness at losing Erik, to his sister no less, but Charles was almost inclined to agree with her.

He shook the feeling away and leaned back to rest his weight against the solid wood behind him.

“These are really nice Professor,” Hank said softly, pushing his glasses up his nose “the only thing they need is the music to go with them.”

Charles didn’t reply, but instead reached for his backpack. He reached into the unzipped pouch and pulled out another book, a composition notebook this time, and passed it to Hank for him to look over.

“Wow,” Moira said with a whistle “you’ve busy Charles.”

He shrugged in response; it wasn’t like he had anything else to do after he finished his homework.

“Right,” Alex suddenly exclaimed, clapping his hands together once “let’s get this show on the road; Anna said I have to be home for dinner tonight.”

“Wait,” the only girl in the group said, holding up a hand to stop everyone from moving “Charles, you need to try out your new mic, go on,” she explained, shoving him into the booth.

“Hey—hold on!” Charles tried, hand catching the frame of the door to stop his forward motion “What am I supposed to do? Try out one of the new songs?”

“Bah!” Moira snorted “there’s time for that later, just go have fun with it for the moment, we’ll be in the other booth!” The door closed behind him and he stood just inside the doorway.

The microphone gleamed under the lights, standing at the perfect height for him to use it. That stopped him in his tracks. He had a new microphone. _He had a new microphone_. His friends had _bought him a new microphone._ He switched it on and wrapped a hand around the top of the stand, right under the mic itself.

“I’ve got a new microphone!” He crooned into it “I’ve got a new microphone. I’ve. Got. A new. Microphone!”

He looked up, making eye contact with Hank through the glass. Hank was covering a smile behind his hand. Charles raised an eyebrow at him and the younger teen raised his hand in a ‘give me a minute’ gesture.

A crackling static soon started to pour from the sound booth’s speakers. Charles furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but before he could say anything something else began to filter through as well.

It was him. It was a recording of what he’d just sang. He saw Hank push a button, and suddenly his voice—which sounded happier than he had in months—was joined by Alex, Sean, and Moira harmonizing with “He’s got a new microphone! He doesn’t need you anymore! He’s. Got. A new. Microphone!”

Charles covered his face with his hands, trying to hide both his grin and his stinging eyes. He had the greatest friend in the world; and they were right. Charles knew exactly who the ‘you’ they were referring to was and they were absolutely right. He didn’t need Erik anymore. Or Raven for that matter.

He didn’t need them anymore because he had a new microphone.


	2. And He Doesn't Need You Anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to say you can listen to the songs that are on the EP (Dear Jackass Ex-Boyfriend: Here's What I Think About You Running Off With My Younger Sister) here: http://noswordsforlittledragons.tumblr.com/post/77866944695/dear-jackass-ex-boyfriend-heres-what-i-think-about

It was the end of December before they managed to put the finishing touches on their first EP; which Alex was insisting they name ‘Dear Jackass Ex-Boyfriend: Here’s What I Think About You Running Off With My Younger Sister.’

“It _is_ catchy,” Moira admitted and Charles groaned in frustration.

“It really isn’t,” Charles argued, picking at the leftovers of the Christmas dinner he and Alex had made for Scott (who was sitting at the other side of the table, watching the verbal volleys bounce back and forth like a tennis match).

“Besides,” Hank chimed in, “only two of the songs are even talk about how big of a… a dick he was,” the word sounded awkward coming out of Hank’s mouth and the glasses wearing teen looked just as awkward saying it. “The other three are either about falling in love or moving on.”

“Still,” Alex tried, “it’s an attention grabbing title, people are totally gonna wanna listen to it just to hear what kind of songs are on it.”

“Or,” Hank pointed out reasonably, “they could look at the title and think that it looks like a disk full of pre-teen angst.”

Sean rolled his eyes at Hank, “You guys haven’t even looked at the print we worked out last night.”

Before anyone else could respond, he shoved a hand into his jean pocket and brought a folded piece of paper. He opened it up, flattened it out, and pushed it to the center of the table so that Moira, Charles, and Hank could see the design that he and Alex had worked out.

“Nice!” Moira hissed in satisfaction, extending her clenched hand out towards Alex and Sean for a fist bump.

Hank dropped his head to the table with a loud _thunk_ and Charles frowned.

“No,” he said firmly in his best older-brother-verging-on-dad voice and the other three’s faces dropped immediately into pouts.

Charles pursed his lips. “We’ll keep the title you’ve suggested—” he was cut off by three roaring cheers. “ _But,_ ” he stressed, giving them pointed looks. “We’re changing the cover. We’re not releasing a close-up of Alex shooting the finger as our album cover.”

That caused Hank to perk up and the other’s conceded with a mumbled, “Yes Professors/Charles.”

The silence that settled afterwards was interrupted by Scott, who piped up with a sudden, “Can I have a cookie?”

The teens fell into cheerful laughter and Sean pushed himself out of his chair, “I’ll get it,” he said, casually rummaging through the Summers brothers’ foster parents’ cabinets without a hint of self-consciousness.

Charles smiled and leaned back, basking in the happiness of his chosen family. Watching Alex ruffle Scott’s hair caused his thoughts to flicker briefly to Raven; he wondered how she was doing and if she was okay.

He supposed it wasn’t any of his business, and some might even say he shouldn’t waste his energy worrying about her, but she was his younger sister; and in the end it didn’t matter (well, it did, but he was getting over it) that she’d run off with his boyfriend—ex-boyfriend?—because at the end of the day he still loved her with all of his heart.

* * *

 

Spring break rolled around faster than expected, especially after they managed to get one of the local music stores to shelve the handful of CDs they’d self-released, and before Charles knew it, he, Moira, and the boys (including Scott) were lounging in his pool at the Xavier’s Westchester residence.

The radio played in the background, tuned into a small time radio station that rented time slots out to independent DJs or talk-show hosts. The DJ that was playing was a personal favorite of Moira’s, who listened to the station almost religiously, and the radio’s volume had been turned up from a soft hum in the background to ‘if we had neighbors they’d be calling the cops to complain.’

Between the radio’s blaring and Sean’s proclamation of ‘Oh! This is my jam!’ which was followed by a ridiculous amount of air drumming—which, in turn, made Moira laugh so hard she fell off her pool raft—Charles almost missed the sound of his cellphone ringing from its place on the poolside table.

   Hank leaned over from his lounge chair and silenced the radio while Charles pulled himself from the pool.

Everyone watched him with undisguised curiosity. Anyone who would have any reason to call him was already there; his mother hadn’t contacted him outside of the occasional Christmas card (when she was sober enough to remember to send one) since Charles had chosen to stay in America with Raven, and Raven, well Charles hadn’t heard from her since he’d come home to an empty house and a short note that had read,

_Went with Erik. Don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t worry._

_-Raven_

That had been it. No ‘I’ll call when I get there,’ or ‘sorry that your boyfriend is a jerk, I’ll lay into him for that later,’ or even a ‘love, Raven,’ at the end.

He picked up the phone and glanced at the caller I.D. He almost dropped it.

“It’s Raven.” The words passed through shock-numbed lips.

“Are you going to answer it?” Moira asked, eyes narrowed and focused on the phone in his hand; Charles wondered if he’d suddenly gained the power of telepathy or if Moira’s desire to chunk his phone into the pool was just that palpable.

He took a deep breath through his nose and held it for three seconds before exhaling slowly, “No.”

His friends nodded and Charles placed the cell down. It felt definite, final in a way that nothing he’d done yet had; not even replacing the mic Erik had bought him, or writing all those angry, sad, confused songs had felt like turning the page on that chapter of his life quite as much as ignoring Raven’s call did.

Charles took in another breath.

“So,” Moira asked after a minute. “How do you feel?”

He stopped for a moment and thought the question over. He shook his head and shrugged.

“No regret?” Alex tried.

“None,” there was a tone of finality in his voice and his friends nodded, satisfied in the knowledge that he wasn’t going to break down into sobs at any moment.

“Well,” Sean threw out suddenly “now that that’s happened, we should go get ice cream or   fro-yo or something, because now it’s just awkward.”

Charles sent the younger teen a long-suffering look, but it was ignored.

“It wasn’t awkward until you said that, Sean,” Alex snapped with a roll of his eyes, but he looked pleased at the prospect of food.

“Ice cream!” Scott chimed in with a cheer, and Charles softened.

He had a soft spot for all three of the younger teens in his presence (even when he felt more like a parent then a friend) and that was doubly so for the younger Summers brother.

Moira threw him an amused look, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking; she probably did because if he was the dad then she, being a year older than Charles, was the mom in some of those situations.

“Right,” the oldest male said, cutting off any other comments “let’s go get some ice cream, shall we?”

The declaration was met with a cheer, and not just from Scott.

Charles smiled.

Later on, with Scott tucked in the middle seat between he and Moira and the boys sprawled all over each other in the back, queasy from eating too much ice cream, Charles slid on his sunglasses and started the car.

Moira snorted. “Take off the glasses Maverick; you look like a Tom Cruise wannabe.”

Charles, being the gentleman that he was raised to be, simply ignored her and shifted into reverse.

She huffed at the lack of response and turned her eyes to the review mirror “Come on guys, back me up on this.”

“Moira,” Hank said politely, not bothering to lift his head from the rest he had it drooped back against, “the Professor just bought us all ice cream, he can wear what he wants.”

Charles smirked at the loyalty and shifted the truck into drive. He wasn’t a fan of the large vehicle, but it was the only car in Westchester’s garage that could, legally, sit all six of them.

When they pulled through the gates and into the driveway he hit the brakes, sending this passengers lurching forwards, and stared.

There, pulled up in the drive like it had the right to be there sat Erik’s car. The dark maroon Camaro—it’s a ‘69 _Liebling_ , the older boy used to purr as he ran his hand lovingly over the dash, a classic—sat in the space that used to be Erik’s.

Charles breathed out slowly through his nose, hands gripped tightly on the wheel.

That damned car. He’d lost his virginity in its backseat and a small part of him wondered darkly if it now had Raven’s—to quote Moira—‘V-card’ as well.

He released his death grip on the steering wheel. That damned car and its damned driver. What were they doing at his house?

“You can totally come stay with me,” the offer came Moira and she sounded serious. “I’ll tell mom that you’re having your house fumigated, she’s a sucker for your baby blues anyway.”

Charles smoothed his hands over the wheel nervously. “No, this is my home and he’s not driving me out of it.”

Moira held up her hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, then let’s do this.”

She looked serious, deadly so, and when Charles checked the back seat in the rearview mirror the boys did as well. Even Scott looked like he was ready to kick Erik in the shin.

“You have any idea what you’re gonna say?” Sean questioned from the back, leaning heavily against Hank, who’d been stuck with the middle, to see around the driver’s seat.

“Not a clue,” he admitted candidly.

Charles could hear the smirk in Alex’s voice, “Works for me, we should just kick his ass anyway, no conversation needed.”

Moira chuckled, “Erik would beat you like a drum.”

Alex scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, but relaxed into a pout when Hank patted his shoulder soothingly.

The oldest male put the car in park and blew a breath out of his mouth, “Okay,” he sighed out in a gust of air.

“Okay,” he repeated.

“Okay,” Scott confirmed sagely with a nod of his head.

Charles smiled and killed the engine. “Indeed.”

The house lights were on, Charles noted distractedly; not that that was strange, but focusing on something besides the oncoming confrontation helped him relax.

The bastard was sitting on the couch. Simply sitting on the couch like he lived there, or like he was still welcomed. Raven was sprawled out in the arm chair that was placed catty corner to it and Charles clenched his jaw, infuriated that they felt so comfortable just waltzing back into his house, back into his _life_.

The radio played in the background on the same station it had been on when they’d turned it off and brought it back in earlier before they went for ice cream.

“Charles!” Raven squealed and moved forward to wrap him in a hug but paused at his incredulous look.

Charles sat his set of keys on the table carefully, the rattling jingle of the metal sounding uncomfortably loud in the near silence of the room, but didn’t move to do anything else, content to wait for them to explain their purpose for being there.

The standoff was broken by Scott, who ran past Charles and to the couch that Erik was sitting on. He snatched the stuffed hedgehog off of the couch cushion that was farthest from Erik, gave the man a surprisingly vicious look for someone so young, and scuttled back to stand behind Charles; who’d crossed his arms over his chest and was staring pointedly at Erik.

It was Raven who finally ended the staredown by clearing her throat.

Everyone in the room turned to look at her and she cleared her throat again, quietly thought; more out of embarrassment than anything else.

“You didn’t answer your phone earlier when I called,” she said finally.

“No,” Charles responded simply. “I did not.”

“That’s all you have to say?” She snapped before dropping her voice lower to mimic his, “No, I did not.”

He hummed out an agreement.

Her face grew thunderous. “What the hell, Charles?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, Raven,” he said calmly. He wasn’t trying to antagonize her, or upset her, but it was the truth.

She clenched her jaw and puffed up her chest, preparing to let a rant fly, but the tail end of the song playing caught his attention and he turned his eyes away from her to look at Moira. The dark haired girl had obviously heard it as well because she walked over to the radio, stunned look fixed firmly on her face, and turned the volume up.

“That was local band A Genetic Variation from the first self-released EP. I have to admit guys, the only reason I picked this CD up in the first place was because of its wicked name,” Here, Alex and Sean shot the rest of them triumphant looks “but honestly, these songs are killer. You just heard the first song on the album, Trainwreck, and the rest are just as awesome.”

Moira high-fived the boys, including Scott, and danced a silly jig around Charles.

“Once again, for those of you just tuning in, that was Trainwreck from A Generic Variation off their self-released EP ‘Dear Jackass Ex-Boyfriend: Here’s What I Think About You Running Off With My Younger Sister’ and like I said, kickass title, even better songs, you can pick up your copy at Superfly’s or at the band’s website. The link is on my facebook page.”

Charles smiled and the boys and Moira broke out into hissed ‘yes’es and whoops and cheers. Raven looked pale and Erik, well Erik looked beyond thunderous and well into ‘incoming hurricane’ territory.

Raven excused herself and scampered from the room. Moira followed her example at Charles’s wordless request with a quick, “We’ll go, ah, stalk the website and the order page; we’ll be in your room if you need us!”

She fled the room with the boys in tow.

“That’s what you think happened?” Erik asked quietly, voice even, and Charles shivered; Erick was always quiet, as a general rule, but his anger was different. It was loud and fierce and burning. This, however, was frozen and hushed, unlike anything Charles had even seen from Erik and it reminded him of a glacier—icy and steady but powerful enough to carve deep scares into the landscape.

“I don’t think anything, Erik,” Charles responded, voice just as soft. “I know what happened, you caught me in the morning and said you thought we needed to take a break and then I come home that afternoon to a note from Raven that informed me that you and she had decided to leave and that’s all I really need to know.”

“That isn’t what happened at all,” Erik started to explain, but Charles cut him off with a motion of his hand.

“Don’t,” Charles started as he turned away, looking at the older male hurt more than Charles had ever imagined it would, “as good as you seem to think your explanation is, I don’t want to heart it.”

“Charles, please—”

The younger male cut him off, “No, Erik, I honestly cannot fathom why you thought running off with my sister immediately after breaking up with me was a good idea, but I don’t care.” Except for the fact that he did. He really, really, did.

Instead of letting that thought get run loose in his mind, Charles repeated himself firmly, “I. Do not. Care. I would just like you to go.”

He made to leave the room but a hand on his shoulder stopped his exit.

Erik spun him around and pushed him against the wall beside the door. The older male pinned Charles there with his body, hands on either side of Charles’s head.

Charles could barely bring himself to breathe, Erik was pressed tightly against him, and—in an unconscious movement—he snaked his tongue out to wet his lips as he tried to think of something to say.

Before he could get a decent thought to form, however, Erik was dipping his head and catching Charles’s lips in a hard, anger-fueled kiss.

Charles returned the brutal affection without a single thought, hands skirting around Erik’s back, up his shoulders, and into his hair. It was longer than Charles remembered it being and the dark ginger locks curled around his fingers as if they were trying to keep his hands there forever.

The hands that framed his head dropped from the wall and one cupped his cheek and jaw—and _oh_ he’d always loved those large hands—while the other grasped his hip in a vice-like grip.

Charles lost himself in the kiss, in the familiar taste of Erik’s mint toothpaste and orange flavored gum, in the oil and metal smell that always tinged everything Erik owned, in those sun-abused, chapped lips, in everything that was his lover.

The word sent ice water rushing through his veins. No, not lover, ex-lover. He pushed Erik away and wiped his tender, spit covered, lips with that back of his hand.

Erik growled and tightened his grip on Charles’s hip painfully.

Charles shoved at the hand on his hip angrily. “Do not think,” he spat, shoving at Erik’s chest “that you can come into my home and treat me however you please, Erik Lehnsherr, because rest assured, you are sorely mistaken.”

This time when Charles pushed him away, Erik allowed it to happen; stepping back and dropping his hands from their places on the teen’s body.

He heaved a sigh and his shoulders slumped slightly. “Please Charles,” he whispered.

The teen sighed and let his head fall back against the wall. “Not right now,” he picked his head back up and looked the man in the eye “right now I’m asking you to leave, but I’ll call you later—within the next few days—please.”

Erik looked reluctant to leave but nodded and brushed his knuckles gently over Charles’s cheek, “Okay.”

Charles ran a hand over his face tiredly after Erik closed the front door behind him. Fuck. Just….fuck.

He didn’t know what to feel about Erik’s sudden return—anger? Happiness? Sadness?

And what about Raven? Was he supposed to forgive her for running away with his boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—was he even supposed to be mad about that anymore? Because he wasn’t. Sad? Yes. Betrayed? Absolutely. But mostly he was just exhausted. And he hadn’t even begun to deal with the entire mess.

He sighed again and pushed himself away from the wall; whatever he was going to do, it could wait until tomorrow.


	3. No, He Doesn't Need You Anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the tracks I imagine would be on Dear Jackass Ex-Boyfriend: Here's What I Think About You Running Off With My Younger Sister.   
> http://noswordsforlittledragons.tumblr.com/post/77866944695/dear-jackass-ex-boyfriend-heres-what-i-think-about
> 
> Also, as you can see, I've changed the chapter count from 3 to 5. This story was NOT supposed to be this long so I thought three chapters would be enough when I started out but it kind of got out of control.

Moira, Alex, Hank, and Sean were sprawled across the floor when he made it up to his bedroom and in the center of their artless sprawling was the box that held all of the things Erik had left at Charles’s house. Clothes, CDs, knick-knacks, metal trinkets made in shop during high school, and the toothbrush he’d kept in Charles’s bathroom medicine cabinet all sat in the innocent cardboard box.

Beside it was Moira’s silver lighter. The offer was clear.

“So, we gonna torch this shit, or…?” Alex trailed off, looking up at him from his spot on the floor.

Charles shook his head and dropped to the floor between Moira and Hank. No one asked him if he was sure or tried to persuade him to change his mind and he felt relieved.

Moira put the lighter back in her purse and tossed the bag onto his bed, aiming carefully to avoid Scott, who was curled up in the center fast asleep.

Charles groaned and rubbed at his forehead after about half an hour of silence. He still didn’t have a clue about what he was going to do on the Raven front of this entire mess.

“Raven?” Sean asked with a surprising amount of insight.  

Charles groaned again in response.

“Do you want one of use to talk to her first?” Hank asked “We can gather some information so you don’t have to go in blind.”

The oldest male thought the offer over. It was a good idea and would give him the opportunity to think about what he was going to say to Raven before he had to confront her. He nodded.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Hank volunteered and Charles nodded again, Hank was the best choice. Out of Moira and the boys, Hank had been the one closest to Raven before she left. It seemed the others agreed with that assessment, because no one objected to the plan.

Hank pushed himself from the floor and Sean and Alex both gave his ankle an encouraging squeeze as he walked past them.

Moira turned on them with a raised eyebrow when Hank closed the door behind him, “So, when are the three of you going to own up to your groovy three-way crush on each other?”

Charles buried his face in his hand in empathetic embarrassment. Only Moira would call someone out on something so personal and then call in ‘groovy’ in the same breath.

Alex and Sean both went fire engine red and Charles was glad Scott was asleep as they stuttered out various curse words and half-hearted denials. Moira simply laughed.

* * *

 

Hank stood outside of Raven’s door, reluctant to raise his hand and knock; this had sounded like a better idea when he was lying on Charles’s bedroom floor by Sean.

Finally he sucked in a deep breath and knocked. How bad could it be?

The door opened a crack and puffy, red-rimmed eyes took him in then narrowed into a glare. _Oh_ , he thought to himself, it apparently could be quite bad.

“What Hank?” She snapped, looking like she was half-tempted to just close the door in his face.

He shrugged, unsure about what she wanted him to say “I just wanted to come and talk to you”

She stayed where she was for long enough that Hank started to think that she wasn’t going to let him in, but in the end she opened the door the rest of the way, letting him in, before closing it firmly behind him.

“You all hate me, don’t you?” She sounded so dejected that Hank automatically reached out to pull her into a hug.

“I can’t speak for the others,” he started once he hand her wrapped up “but I don’t. Am I a bit mad at you? Yes. You really hurt Charles and I don’t like that, but I don’t hate you.”

Raven sighed and clutched his shirt “Does,” she started but stopped abruptly and pulled away to collapse on her bed “does he hate me?”

Hank sat down beside her gingerly “I think that he feels a bit betrayed, and hurt, and probably angry, but no. I don’t think Charles hates you; I don’t think he ever could, but.” He inhaled deeply through his nose, this was the hard part.

“Why, Raven? You just left, no warning, no reason, just left, and with Erik. Two of Charles’s most important and beloved people up and leave with no explanation, he has a right to be angry; don’t you think?”

“I just,” she buried her head in her hands “please don’t tell Charles….” She looked to him and he nodded, he could tell Charles the basics about how Raven was feeling without revealing her secrets.

“I just, I always kind of liked Erik, you know? I mean, I know he’s been dating Charles for years, but people fall out of love all the time, so I thought maybe Erik might’ve been going through that with Charles and I thought maybe he could’ve been falling for me,” she laughed but it sounded more like a sob.

Hank wrapped an arm around her shoulders. That was unsurprising, everyone but Charles and Erik knew that Raven had had a bit of a crush on the older male since Charles had first brought him around back when they were just friends.

“And then, when I told him how bad school had be for me the last year he told me he was leaving the area for a while and asked if I wanted to come, I thought that it meant that he liked me back, and I just said yes, it was a dream come true, you know? After being bullied and teased about being flat-chested, all the jokes about Charles’s money and about how ‘if he had so much, why can’t he just buy his sister a new pair of tits’ and then Erik offers to take me away like some sort of White Knight,” she laughed again, bitter and self-depreciating “I’m so fucking stupid.”

Hank squeezed her tighter “No, Raven, you’re just someone who had a crush and made a bad decision because of it; it doesn’t excuse your actions, but at least now they make sense.”

Raven swallowed audibly “It’s not just a crush Hank, I, I love him.”

He blinked. He didn’t know what to say to that.

“Fuck, you think I’m stupid now, huh, since you didn’t before?”

Hank shook his head “No, I…..” he shrugged uncomfortably and didn’t finish the sentence.

Raven nodded anyway, as if she knew exactly what he had been about to say. Maybe she did, but he didn’t.

“Oh, Hank,” she groaned, not quite as reassured as Hank would have liked.

“Okay, look Raven,” he sighed, unsure if what he was about to say would help or hinder “what you did? It was kind of….crappy of you, and I think you should feel bad about it; and I’m glad you do, because it shows regret, on some level, for your actions.”

She licked her lips and nodded her head but stayed silent, and Hank hoped that it meant that she was thinking what he’d said over. He squeezed her shoulder once again, offering friendly comfort, and pushed himself off the bed.

“Have a good evening,” was his parting. She didn’t respond and he left the room.

* * *

 

Charles bit at his lower lip and paced around his room as they waited for Hank to return.

Alex was sprawled on his back with Sean’s head pillowed on his stomach, Moira was settled into the chair at his desk and Scott was still asleep on the bed.

Charles froze when the door opened with a slight squeak of its higher. He didn’t say anything as Hank walked in and closed the door behind him, no one did.

Hank sat down heavily on the bed and looked at Charles with sad eyes “She was being bullied. Charles froze and Hank repeated himself “She was being bullied. How did we not notice?”

The oldest male collapsed onto the bed beside Hank, as if his legs no longer had the strength to hold him up.

“What?” He croaked finally, trying to digest the statement. He was failing.

“That’s the reason she gave me for leaving.” Hank said, omitting what else Raven had confessed; that was between brother and sister, and Hank didn’t want any part of it.

“Why wouldn’t she tell me?” It was whispered out, a sorrowful plea for answers.

It was Alex who answered “You know how Raven is,” it was matter-of-fact, as if there was no other truth to the question then his answer “so stubborn and strong, she thinks she can take on the world by herself.”

Moira hummed in agreement, but Sean’s eyebrow’s furrowed.

“Embarrassed,” he said simply “she’s embarrassed, she’s smart and pretty and rich, and she’s being bullied? How could she tell us that? Tell you that?”

Charles’s eyes snapped to Sean, wide with shock and a little hurt “Why would she not? She knows she can tell me anything.”

Sean shook his head “That’s just it though, you’re her brother, the person she looks up to the most and I think she’s scared—irrationally, maybe, but that doesn’t really help—that you’d think less of her, or see her the way her bullies do.”

Charles just stared; it wasn’t often that Sean sounded so wise. Alex and Hank were both looking a bit star-struck and Charles would’ve smiled if the weight of what the ginger had said didn’t way on him so heavily.

He breathed out, unsure of what to say. What to feel.

“Look,” Moira said from her spot at his desk “you shouldn’t forgive her yet; being bullied is an explanation, not an excuse, so it’s all right to still be mad at her, and you don’t have to feel guilty for it, but,” she emphasized firmly “go easy on her when you go to talk, yeah? Don’t just burst in with your metaphorical guns blazing and yell at her.”

Charles nodded at the advice, letting it sink in. She was right. He was entitled to be upset with Raven, and he didn’t feel guilty for being so, but he would feel guilty if he went and yelled and upset her even more.

“Why is it so hard to have younger siblings?” He groaned, flopping back on the bed, head brushing against Scott’s bent knee.

“I don’t know, but I’m glad I don’t have any,” Sean chuckled, holding out his hand for Hank to high-five.

The young genius did so, looking only marginally awkward as he did, Charles knew he still wasn’t used to participating in such ‘bro-gestures,’ as Moira called them.

Moira scoffed out a laugh and an “Agreed,” and Alex huffed in feigned irritation, a smile touched Charles lips and he relaxed into his mattress; he would talk to Raven tomorrow.

* * *

 

Charles was making pancakes when Raven came down the next morning with a dazed ‘I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-and-I’m-still-mostly-asleep’ expression. It disappeared and she straightened up when she noticed Charles standing over the stove.

He tried to smile, but he had a feeling that he failed miserably; so instead he turned back to the stove.

“If you want one you should grab it now,” he said to the pan with a gesture to the sack of cooling pancakes he’d already cooked, “Moira and the boys will be down any minute, and I don’t anticipate them lasting long after they get a hold of them.”

He didn’t get a verbal response, but the clicking of porcelain against porcelain and the flash of a silver fork in the corner of his eye let him know that his advice had been heeded.

Not a minute later, Moira, followed by Scott and Sean, shuffled through the door and settled at the table. The three ignored Raven entirely and only spared Charles mumbled ‘morning’s.

“Well,” he chided lightly “if that’s the kind of hello I’m going to get, perhaps I should take these pancakes somewhere else; somewhere I’ll get a little more appreciation, hm?”

The word ‘pancake’ had Sean and Scott fumbling over themselves to get out of their chairs for plates and had them almost shouting out a proper ‘good morning, Charles.’ Moira just glared. She wouldn’t be functioning until she got some caffeine into her system.

Sean and Scott were halfway done with their pancakes before Alex and Hank stumbled into the kitchen.

The older Summers brother made a beeline for the refrigerator and pulled out the orange juice Charles kept stocked specifically for him. Alex uncapped the jug and took a swig straight from the container; Charles had half a mind to scold him for it but decided not to. No one else drank orange juice anyway and Charles’s house was the only place Alex got it –his foster parents wouldn’t let it in their house because Anna thought it had too much acid.

Raven stood at the edge of their little family, as if she could no longer tell if she belonged with them or not.

Charles didn’t beckon her closer, as he once would have, but instead let her hover on the outside. It wasn’t punishment or payback, at least he didn’t think it was meant to be, but he couldn’t bring himself to face his sister either; the hurt and betrayal still stung far too much for him to actually talk to Raven at the moment.

None of the others invited her to join either, deeply in-tuned to Charles’s needs on this front.

The younger Xavier slipped out of the room quietly, unable and unwilling to stay in the kitchen with a group of people who were content to ignore her presence.

Charles felt a pang of guilt when he saw his sister’s shoulders drop as she shuffled out of the room but he ignored it. He would talk to her later. He would.

* * *

 

The house was quiet, the others had gone to their own homes to give Charles time to talk to Raven, and he didn’t have any more excuses to put it off.

He pushed himself from the couch and closed his book. He didn’t mark his page; his mind was too unfocused to soak in what he’d read anyway.

Charles took in a breath and straightened his shoulders, he could do this. He _would_ do this. He had to.

“Raven?” He called out, unwilling to go to her room—to confront her in her territory; no, it was better to keep this on neutral ground—“Could meet me in the kitchen?”

There was no response, but he could hear her moving about her room. The door opened and he could hear the sound of feet on the stairs. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and settled himself into a chair.

She sat in the one across from him silently, “I—” he cut himself and laced his fingers together on the table in front of him “I honestly don’t know what to say to you Raven.”

She opened her mouth to say something but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

“No, let me say this,” he sucked in a breath through his mouth slowly, trying to give himself time to think; even the information Hank had given him hadn’t helped prepare him for this talk. Charles thought it might’ve actually made it worse.

“What am I supposed to think here Raven?” He questioned. “That I mean so little to you that you didn’t think about how I’d feel when you ran off with my boyfriend? That living with me was so bad that you felt that you had to run away? I just, I don’t know what to think.”

He ignored what Hank had told him about Raven’s reasoning, and focused instead on the thoughts and explanations that had been swirling around his mind for months.

“No Charles!” She burst out, eyes watery with unshed tears.

“Then what, Raven?” He pressed on regardless of her tears; the sooner they did this, the sooner their relationship would start to heal.

“I needed to,” she paused and drew in a shaky breath “I needed to leave for a while, to get away and I didn’t think about it, I just went. I’m sorry, I should’ve talked to you about it, or explained it, or something,” she buried her head in her hands/

“Why didn’t you call? Or write?” Charles asked after a few minutes of silence, “I didn’t know where you were, if you were okay, I didn’t know anything.”

“I meant to, I did,” she tried to explain but she couldn’t find the words—or a good enough reason—so she finished the sentence with a helpless little shake of her head.

Logically Charles knew that her apologies and vaguely touched reasons didn’t actually correct the situation but they made him feel better and he thought that that was really the important thing, so he gave her a nod and unlaced his fingers, reaching out to squeeze her wrist in an accepting manner.

Raven pulled her head from her hands and gave him a watery half smile—it was really more of an upturn of the corners of her mouth—and he returned it with a similar twitch of his lips.

Things weren’t automatically better, and Charles knew that it was going to take time—and very likely a few more of these discussions—for their relationship to heal, but he knew that they were headed in the right direction.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this chapter, it wasn't quite the explosive argument I'd promised or hoped for but Charles refused to work with me when I tried to take it that direction.
> 
> The only thing left is the epilogue, which I hope will be up sooner than I got this up.

His sweat-slicked skin clung to the leather seat underneath him and Charles groaned silently in his head as he stroked a hand up the strong back of the body that rested on top of him.

This was not how this day was supposed to go. He threw an arm over his eyes to block out the rays of sun that were peaking in through the car’s rear-windshield and thought back on the day and the events that had led him to where he was—naked in the backseat of a familiar maroon Camaro with said car’s owner sprawled, equally unclothed, on top of him.

 

* * *

 

Charles had woken up that day with a craving for waffles and the need to speak to Erik—to know why the older man had left like he had.

He fixed himself breakfast, shared the kitchen table with Raven in awkward silence, took a shower, and then—when he really couldn’t bring himself to stall any longer—punched the number to Erik’s cell into his own mobile (deleting the number from his contact list had been one of the first things he’d done, and Charles was thankful that he had an almost eidetic memory).

Erik answered on the first ring with a breathless “Charles?” that caused the younger man to wondering if he’d interrupted something.

“Charles?” The man repeated when Charles failed to responded. There was a frown in his voice.

“Ah, yes,” Charles fumbled, unprepared to hear Erik’s voice after the way their conversation had ended the last time they had spoken. He’d tried to focus himself on the problems in his relationship with Raven, leaving himself with no preparation for his talk with Erik.

He cleared his throat and tried again “I was wondering if you were busy this afternoon?”

There was a noise on the other end of the line, as if Erik had dripped something, and Erik rushed out a quick “Not at all, are you okay? Do you need something?”

Charles sighed and ran a hand through his hair, anger bubbling in his stomach. How _dare_ Erik act so concerned—so sweet, a small voice cooed lovingly in the back of his mind (Charles hissed at it to shut up)—after everything he’d done; after he’d up and left Charles with no warning or explanation.

“No, I’m fine, I just thought today would be a good day for us to talk.”

“Yes, absolutely,” the agreement was immediate “when would you like to meet?”

“I was thinking as soon as you’d be able to,” better to just get it over and be done with it.

“Great!” The older male seemed happy at the prospect and it made Charles frown. Erik should be as apprehensive—if not more—as Charles was, so why did he sound so cheerful?

“I’ll head over there now!”

He hung up before Charles could object—he’d planned on meeting on neutral ground, a café in town or something, and the thought of riding anywhere with Erik made the nervousness coursing through his body double.

He shook his head and slipped his phone into the pocket of his trousers, it was too late now and calling Erik back didn’t seem worth the hassle.

Twenty minutes later Charles heard a familiar rumble and closed his book, Erik was there. He took a deep breath, stood from his chair slowly, straightened his clothes, and made his way to the door; pulling it open before Erik could make it to the porch.

He locked the door and closed it behind him, meeting Erik halfway down the driveway.

They stared at each other for a moment. Erik—damn him—looked relaxed in a way that Charles was frustratingly envious of.

Erik broke the silence “What’d you want to talk about?”

Charles locked at him for a moment longer and felt a little better about the situation when he realized the other man wasn’t as relaxed as he was trying to seem—his shoulders were still stiff in a way only those who’d seen him completely at ease would pick up on, and Charles was one of that select few.

“A lot of things,” he sighed out when he finished his observations “mainly our relationship, I suppose.”

Erik nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Closure,” Charles tacked on after a moment “I guess that’s what we should talk about. Our relationship and why it ended.”

Erik hummed out a sound that Charles wasn’t quite sure what to make of and then asked “Where to?”

Charles shrugged “Somewhere we can have a private conversation.”

Erik nodded again and turned on his heel, heading toward his car. Charles followed behind.

He felt off the moment he slid into the Camaro’s passenger’s seat. His eyebrows drew together subconsciously as he stared at the leather beneath him, trying to figure out what was wrong.

As he stretched his legs out it hit him. His seat wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

It was like a punch to the gut and a slap in the face all at once. The air rushed out of his lungs and his eyes snapped open wide. _This_. This was the feeling he’d been dreading; the feeling that he’d managed to fight off for so long.

Erik’s betrayal was suddenly so much more _real_.

Erik’s passenger’s seat had been in the exact same spot, the exact same position—from its length from the dashboard to the recline of the backrest—since the first time Erik had ever given him a ride home from school back before they’d even called themselves friends. He was the only person Erik had ever let into his car; but now, now it was different. His seat, and Charles had always thought of it as _his_ —had been pushed back out of its place by Raven—much like he’d been pushed back out of his position as Erik’s boyfriend.

The realization made him sick. He tilted his head back, overcome with the burning need to vomit.

Only the shock of a hand clamping down on his shoulder stopped his stomach from heaving.

He drew in a shaky breath between trembling lips and turned to look at Erik, who was gripping his shoulder with a concerned look.

They were still parked in his drive and Charles briefly considered simply flinging himself out of the car and being done with the entire mess.

As if reading his mind, Erik’s grip tightened.

“Charles?” Erik asked “What’s wrong?”

Charles ground his teeth together and reached down, ignoring the question, and forced the seat back into its _proper_ position with a forceful ‘click’.

“Nothing,” he said after readjusting the seat “just drive.”

Erik opened his mouth but closed it after a moment and shifted the car into reverse instead. His hands stayed firmly planted—one on the wheel, the other on the gearshift—instead of reaching out to lace one with Charles’s like he would have before.

Charles twisted his hands together; they felt cold and strange without Erik’s covering them. He bit the inside of his cheek, hoping that the pain would distract him from the lonely feeling in his hands.

He was, on one level, glad that Erik hadn’t tried to hold his hand—Charles didn’t know what he’d do if the older man touched him so gently—but on another level, he wished that the older man had—just so that he could touch his love one last time before the day was over.

He lost track of how much time had passed, he’d lost himself in the woods that sped past the car’s window, but all too soon Erik was putting the car into park and killing the engine.

Charles almost moaned in despair when he noticed where Erik had taken them. So much for ‘neutral.’ The place he’d given his virginity to the other man was about as far from ‘neutral’ as they could get. It was about as romantic-movie cliché as one could get. A secluded overlook shrouded with thick evergreens and soft grass that surrounded a packed-dirt circle that was perfect for parking a few cars—Charles was certain he hadn’t been the first to lose it in the back seat of a car at this specific overlook and he doubted he’d be the last.

Charles turned his head to look towards the other man, but kept his body facing forward, unwilling to open himself completely to the other. Erik had bother hands folded in his lap and he was looking back at Charles.

“Why?” Charles breathed out once he’d found the strength to do so.

“What?” Erik croaked voice hoarse.

“Why did you leave?”

Erik swallowed heavily “I—Charles, I had to.”

The teen barked out a mirthless laugh “You had to, of course you did.”

The older male sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration “I needed to think, about you, about life, us; I just needed to think, Charles.”

Charles slammed his hands down on the dash “Dammit Erik!”

The other jumped, eyes wide with shock.

“What the hell does thinking have to do with you leaving town, leaving _me_ , and running off with my sister?” It wasn’t a yell, but it was close and Charles knew that Erik was surprised—Charles never really raised his volume above an ‘indoor voice.’

Erik frowned and crossed his arms defensively “My father was sick and I went to help take care of him, I don’t see the problem with using the situation to think over things.”

“You should’ve just told me that instead of leaving without warning or an explanation!”

He was yelling now, and Erik’s excuses were doing nothing to calm him.

“I didn’t think I need to! I didn’t have to explain myself to you! I still don’t!” Erik was yelling back.

Charles reeled back, eyes wide before he leaned forward once more; one hand snapped the seatbelt out of the buckle and threw it off of him, it hit the passenger’s side window with an angry crack, while the other hand yanked the door handle viciously. He gave Erik a furious glare before he shoved the door open.

“You know what?” He spat as he climbed out of the car “You’re right, you don’t have to explain yourself to me, it’s none of my business.”

He slammed the door and stalked off, arms coming up to hug himself in an attempt at self-comfort.

He balled his hands into fists and tucked them under his arms; he squeezed his fists tighter to his body and sighed heavily. What was he going to do now?

Behind him another slam and the steady rhythm of footsteps on packed dirt sounded out.

Charles didn’t stop or slow his stride. Fuck Erik. He stumbled; he’d never said something like that in his life, especially not about Erik. After a beat he grinned. It felt sort of…liberating to say that. Fuck Erik! Fuck him very much.

His shoulders slumped after a moment—after the short burst of thrilled-anger died down. He was so _tired_ of being angry at Erik.

“Charles!” Erik called.

The teen didn’t respond, Erik had made himself clear and Charles didn’t have the strength or energy to listen to the other any longer.

“Charles, come on,” Erik tried again.

He kept walking.

“Please!” It sounded desperate, borderline begging, and Charles stopped.

He sighed and tilted his head to look up at the sky, looking for his last bit of strength. He dropped his arms tiredly and waited for the other to catch up.

“I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

“Yes you did,” Charles denied.

Erik out a frustrated huff “No, I didn’t Charles.”

Charles sighed and looked at the other from the corner of his eyes but didn’t turn his head to look at him fully. Erik looked as frustrated as he’d sounded and Charles felt himself cave in.

“Okay, then what did you mean?”

Before Erik could answer the wind whipped through the trees and Charles shivered, it was unusually cold for spring.

“Let’s go back to the car first,” Erik suggested, looking pointedly at the goosebumps that were crawling up and down Charles’s arms.

Charles agreed with no resistance.

They settled back into the car and Erik breathed in a deep breath through his nose.

“Okay,” he said steadily “Okay.”

Charles waited patiently.

“I didn’t think it’d be a big deal,” Erik admitted finally “ I mean, I didn’t know it would upset you.”

Unfortunately, Charles knew that was most likely the case; Erik rarely realized when his actions would upset Charles.

“You still should’ve told me, Erik, even if you didn’t think it would upset me; especially since your dad was sick.”

Erik looked uncomfortable so Charles moved on “What did you need to think about?”

“Us, where we’re going, where I’d like us to go.”

Charles leaned back in his seat and thought to himself for a moment. He felt warmth—love, he knew immediately it was love, because he knew he still loved Erik deeply—bloom in his chest; Erik was using present tense.

He tamped the feeling down. They still had a lot to talk about before they crossed that line again.

“And you felt you couldn’t talk to me about it?”

“They’re my problems Charles; I need to work them out on my own.”

“Why?”

Erik turned to him fully “Because you’re so completely perfect, and I’m not.”

Something snapped, and before Charles could stop himself, he was lunging across the car and scrambling into Erik’s lap. He grabbed the older man’s head in his hands and kissed him hungrily. He’d missed this. Missed Erik.

He pulled back, chest heaving as he tried to suck in air.

“What was it about us that you needed to think about?” He pressed on, leaning away from Erik and back against the steering wheel.

“You going to college, where you’d go, if I’d be able to follow you.”

“Stupid man,” Charles growled out, reaching up a hand to tangle it in Erik’s hair and pulling it harshly “When you’re deciding things like that, you need to talk to me, it’s my future too and my input should be considered before you make any decisions.”

He didn’t let Erik say anything else, but dove in for another kiss instead.

He pulled away again after a few minutes. His jeans were starting to get uncomfortably tight. They should stop, he knew that they should, but the little voice in the back of his mind whispered that talking could wait—and why would he want to talk when _this_ felt so right?—and it was winning the argument.

No. Charles forced himself to shuffle back, perching carefully on Erik’s knees.

“What am I to you?”

Erik’s brow furrowed “What?”

“What am I to you, Erik?” Charles repeated, staring the other man straight in the eyes, “Because right now, I’m not feeling like your equal, so what am I to you?”

“Oh hell,” Erik groaned out “What does it even matter?”

Charles leaned forward with a hard glint in his eyes “It matters because I refuse to be in a relationship where I’m not my partner’s equal.”

Erik’s hands shot up and grabbed his face so fast that Charles was momentarily stunned.

“Everything,” Erik whispered seriously, thumbs stroking gently across Charles’s cheekbones, “You’re everything to me.”

Charles swallowed around the lump in throat.

Fuck it.

That was good enough for the moment.

With that he crashed back into Erik, hands gripping those broad shoulders he loved so much as his lips parted for Erik’s questing tongue.

“Erik,” Charles hissed as they parted for air and dove to Erik’s neck, nipping at the spot behind his ear, the one that Charles knew drove the older male mad. He drug his left hand from Erik’s shoulder to slip under the neck of his shirt and slid his hand back to its former position, scratching Erik’s shoulder gently before sinking his untrimmed nails into the soft flesh.

“Fuck,” the other man growled in response. He reached up and tugged Charles away from his neck “backseat, get into the back.”

Charles scrambled off Erik almost frantically, tripping himself up as he climbed into the back. Erik was right behind him, practically falling on top of Charles in his haste. The hurried to find a comfortable position; Charles ended up on his back, head brushing against the car’s side, one foot planted on the floorboard and the other stretched out along the seat’s back with Erik slotted in between his knees with his back hunched.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Charles chanted, fumbling to get his shirt off and his pants unzipped at the same time; it wasn’t working. He heard Erik chuckle, but when he looked up the other man wasn’t much better, one arm out of his loose V-neck, the fly of his jeans down, and the denim shoved down to mid-thigh.

Charles huffed and yanked his shirt off, leaving Erik to help him out of his pants. The older man took the silent invitation for what it was and popped the button on Charles’s jeans, hooking his fingers in the band of both the denim and the soft cotton boxers underneath coxing them down without even bothering to undo the zipper.

“Really?” Charles asked breathlessly as Erik shifts and pulls his jeans off one of his legs, leaving both them and his boxers hanging off his left leg.

Erik growled lightly and hitched Charles’s left thigh up to his shoulder and gave his ass a light smack “Hush.”

The younger male’s playful answering hum turned to a squeak when Erik bit into his thigh in revenge.

Charles huffed and hooked his other leg around Erik’s hips and pulled him closer, he’d had enough teasing—it’d been way too long and he wanted the other in him immediately.

Erik got the message and shoved a hand under the seat, letting out a triumphant hiss as he came back up with a discreet bottle in his hands. Charles smiled, it’d had been a while since he and Erik had had a spontaneous backseat-tumble like this; even before Erik had left.

He popped the cap and ducked his head to kiss Charles as he coated his fingers. Charles groaned when circled his entrance playfully, using the flat of his thumb to press against it gently before flitting away only to come back again seconds later.

“Erik please!” he whined, arching his back when the older slipped the very tip of his middle finger in.

Erik tutted him, lips brushing over his own with every word “Patience, Charles; that’s what you always tell me, isn’t it?”

Charles bucked his hips, trying to work the finger in deeper by himself. Erik chuckled and Charles clamped down on the digit as tightly as he could in retaliation. Erik gasped and his hand jerked, Charles smirked in triumph as the finger inside of him slid in deeper as a result of the jerk.

Erik growled and pulled his finger out but thrust back in quickly, this time his middle finger had been joined by his first finger and he began to scissor them. Before long he slipped in a third and Charles gasped at the burning sting, it had been too long for him to take them without any pain but he knew that it would fade soon enough.

He sighed gently as Erik pulled out only to sink the digits back in with a quick twist, glancing by Charles’s prostate with a practiced motion. Erik sucked a mark on his collarbone and repeated the motion. Again and again and again.

Charles pulled Erik’s head away from his neck and brought their mouths together in a sloppy, desire filled kiss. His lips curled at the edges into a smile involuntarily as the other sighed happily into his mouth.

Sex with Erik had always been relatively quiet compared to what he’d seen in porn or heard from his peers, and Charles was perfectly fine with that; with breathless gasps and nearly silent groans and growls, with his name falling softly from Erik’s lips reverently, as if he were worshiping Charles with his entire being.

Too soon—or not soon enough, Charles wasn’t sure at that point—Erik was pulling his fingers out. Charles whined pitifully, hips squirming in an attempt to fight off the sudden empty feeling, and was too far gone to care for Erik’s amused laugh.

And then….and then, and then, and then, Erik was sinking into him. He was uncovered and Charles hummed, nearly drunk with lust and pleasure, at the feeling of flesh on flesh.

Charles rolled his hips to meet Erik’s thrust. Together they found their old rhythm easily and Charles lost himself to the familiar feeling of Erik’s body over his own.

He slipped his leg from Erik’s shoulder to wrap around the other’s waist in a strong hold and raised his hands to grip tightly at the older’s strong shoulders. He dug his nails into the skin and dragged them down Erik’s back, knowing that the other enjoyed a little pain with his pleasure. He dug his nails in deeper and drug them back up when the other man groaned lowly. This time he was rewarded with a sharp thrust and a gasp of his name.

He grinned to himself and did it again and again, crisscrossing his marks up and down his lover’s back, his own way of branding the man as his.

Heat was pooling low in his belly by the time Erik’s thrusts lost their rhythym and became jerky and Charles buried his nails as deeply into Erik’s back as forcefully as he could and drug them down, over the globes of Erik’s ass and to the tops of his thighs. He could feel the blood smearing on his fingers but ignored it as pleasure crashed over him, his cock jerking between him and Erik as the other burst inside of him.

Erik collapsed on top of him heavily, but Charles just sighed happily. He’d forgotten how fantastic sex with Erik was. With sluggish effort he dropped his arm to the floorboards and searched for a piece of clothing, he came up with a shirt—Erik’s he noted dimly—and used it to wipe the blood from Erik’s back.

“Sorry,” he tossed out as he dropped the shirt to the floor.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Erik replied flippantly, pushing a sweat damp lock of hair from Charles’s face. He stretched his neck up to kiss the younger man softly before dropping back to his thin chest, eyes fluttering to a half-masted droop. Charles followed his example; a quick nap had never hurt anyone.

 

* * *

 

 

Erik shifted on top of him and Charles blinked, coming back to the present.

“Marry me?”

Charles blinked again and his brain short-circuited. He stared at his lover for a moment before he managed to stutter out an ‘excuse me?’ maybe he’d simply misheard.

Erik spoke slowly this time “Will. You. Marry. Me?”

Charles shook his head frantically “No! Absolutely not!”

Erik’s lips thinned “Why not?”

Charles sighed out, that had come out a bit more horrified than he’d meant it to “Because we just started dating after a six month…break up, shall we call it, and while everything’s fine for now, we still have a lot to talk about and a long way to go before I’d ever say yes.”

Erik pulled away and moved to remove himself completely from Charles but the younger man caught his hand and tabled their fingers together stroking the back of his hand with a pale thumb gently in apology.

“I’m not saying no, really, I’m just saying ‘not now.' I'm not going to lie, Erik, you messed up and it's going to take some time until we reach the point that we were at before you left, but I'm willing to give you the time to work for it, is that okay?”

Erik was silent for a moment, but he settled back down over Charles almost immediately.

“Yeah,” Erik said confidently “That’s fine.”

Charles held him fast for another moment "I need you to understand, Erik," he stayed silent until he was absolutely sure he had the other man's attention "I don't trust you like I should, and there are going to be days when I look at you differently because I'm going to expect you to leave or be gone or I'm going to do something by myself because I'm not used to being one of a pair anymore; I'm going to ask you again, are you okay with that?"

Erik doesn't say anything, but kisses him instead.

Charles smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me at NoSwordsForLittleDragons.tumblr.com
> 
> Seriously though, if you think its OCC for them, please let me know (gently, please; be gentle with me) because I feel like I'm still having issues with their characterization.


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